Chapter Text
A Holiday
“Well, that was entertaining,” the Commander commented, when the last straggler finally left the room. Their angry voices echoed down the hallway as Drumknott escorted them out.
“Quite,” Vetinari returned, steepling his fingers together as he looked somewhere past Vimes and at the wall.
Which was how Vimes knew the Patrician was unbalanced by the recent interaction, for usually it was Vimes staring fixedly past Vetinari’s ear, so as not to meet that keen blue gaze.
He shifted, readjusting his helmet under his arm, and ventured: “Come now, sir, it wasn’t that bad.”
A single raised eyebrow was his only response, as if to say: Oh, really, Vimes? And is that your professional assessment of the matter?
“Well,” Vimes amended, “I’m sure we’ve had worse. And if not, well, we could always sic Angua on them. She’s been getting a bit restless lately. Full moon and all that.” At Vetinari’s Look he hastily added: “Surveillance only, of course. I’m an officer of the law,” he reminded his boss, the Assassin.
Vetinari sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your Grace, I sometimes wonder how you’re still alive.”
“You haven’t thrown me in the scorpion pit yet, your lordship,” Vimes returned, with a manic grin. Sometimes the only way to deal with Vetinari’s slippery conversational sallies was to confront him with the fact that Vimes suspected Vetinari actually liked him.
Maybe even trusted him.
The slipper bugger should; Vimes had saved his damn life enough times.
The Patrician’s eyes narrowed. “That is still an option, Sir Samuel,” he said, in a tone of voice that would have made a much younger Sam Vimes start to sweat.
But they’d been through too much together now for Vimes to take that tone seriously when it was directed at him; a dangerous gamble to be sure, but one his gut was telling him was a sure bet.
His manic smile widened. “Promises, promises, sir,” he challenged, standing more at ease and placing his helmet down on the Patrician’s desk with a dull ‘clunk.’
Suddenly Vetinari was around his desk and standing before him, barely a hands-breadth away. Vimes was took use to how the Patrician could move like a snake to do more than visibly control his flinch, but he also didn’t make any more to stop the other man when Vetinari took Vimes’ face gently between his long fingers and brought their lips together.
The kiss went on for several minutes until Vimes pulled back softly. “Havelock,” he said, seriously. His hands fisted in the Patrician’s black robes. “You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’ll deal with this crisis like we did all the ones before.”
Vetinari sighed and rested their heads together. Vimes noticed the lines on his face and the grey at his temples for the first time.
“Yes, of course,” he said, but Vimes didn’t think he meant it.
He kissed him fiercely in answer, trying to will his own determination into the other man. When Vetinari finally went pliant in his arms, he gentled the kiss, tangling his hands in the Patrician’s hair. “How about a holiday?” he suggested. “Charlie will take your place, and we’ll leave Carrot and Lipwig in charge.”
Vetinari sighed, but there was a faint smile hovering on his lips. “A holiday, your grace?” he queried, dubiously.
“A holiday,” Vimes said, firmly. “Nice and relaxing. Just what we need. You, me and the Sea. And no work.”
The End
P.S. Vetinari was, of course, entirely correct to be dubious. Vimes got embroiled investigating an illegal smuggling ring and Vetinari took down a gang of pirates. No relaxation was had. By anyone.